


Christmas Butterfly

by EllanaSan



Series: Hayffie Advent Calendar 2020 [15]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28169214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: “Regretting everything?” Haymitch taunted as he shuffled into the dining-room, his bare legs poking out from his navy blue woolen dressing-gown.She was certain he was still naked underneath but she didn’t have the energy to chide him about that. And she wouldn’t until the sobering tablets had done their job…
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket
Series: Hayffie Advent Calendar 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031940
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34
Collections: Hayffie Christmas Stories





	Christmas Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> Some pre 74th games was needed to complete our Christmas bingo ;)
> 
> Prompt : “You got me a Christmas present?”

Effie dropped two tablets in her glass and watched the fizzy bubbles rise from the bottom with heavy eyes. The headache was drumming at her temples and she should _really_ have remembered to take some sobering medicine the previous night before bed.

Not that she had been in any state to, though.

She had woken up naked and tangled in silk sheets, Haymitch equally naked and snoring loudly on his stomach next to her. Her last clear memories were of herself drinking one glass too many at the Special Games Christmas Eve Party the previous night. Everyone had been drunk. _Everyone_. She had a vague memory of Seneca bolting Christmas carols at the top of his lungs while Brutus did shots in the background…

She hoped the footage would suitably distract people from the mess that was Annie Cresta’s Victory Tour…

“Regretting everything?” Haymitch taunted as he shuffled into the dining-room, his bare legs poking out from his navy blue woolen dressing-gown.

She was certain he was still naked underneath but she didn’t have the energy to chide him about that. And she wouldn’t until the sobering tablets had done their job…

And she didn’t have much room to talk because for what was the first time in their acquaintance, she was sitting at the breakfast table in her _pajamas_. But it _was_ Christmas after all and her red and green shorts and top were festive enough.

“Pretty much.” she mumbled, watching him fill his plate from the various dishes on the side table. How he could tolerate the mere idea of food after everything he had drunk the previous night… Her own stomach churned with nausea at the very thought of swallowing anything.

So, obviously, once he put the plate he had filled down in front of her, she was so busy making a face that she barely noticed it was full of things she liked: fresh fruits, some white yoghurt and a blueberry muffin.

“Food’s gonna help.” he advised. “Eat something.”

He was the expert.

She downed her sobering tonic first and then picked at the muffin.

“Last night was wild.” she eventually commented.

“No _shit_.” He snorted in his cup of tea. “I’m starting to see why you like Christmas so much. You didn’t kid on the vodka, sweetheart…”

She preferred to ignore his mocking smirk.

She hadn’t kidded on the vodka, that was true. Seneca had encouraged her – _goaded her_ , more like. She had somehow found herself doing shots with Brutus and Cashmere at some point… This was all blurry and vague and she simply hoped she hadn’t embarrassed herself too much in front of the cameras.

“I need to get a move on. Get dressed.” She groaned. “And somehow find the will to drive to my parents’ house.” She hoped Seneca was suffering as much as she was. Chances were the Cranes were all invited to her mother’s Christmas brunch. She was going to give him a piece of her mind. “And then I will have to smile all day while Mother demeans me in front of everyone.”

“Sounds fun.” Haymitch deadpanned, digging in his scrambled eggs.

“You are _mean_.” she retorted.

“You know what could be even funnier?” he continued, as if she hadn’t talked at all. “You could stay here and we could _fuck_ all day.”

That had been his suggestion on how to spend their time ever since he had arrived in the city. Mandatory presence for the Tour didn’t agree with him and he was determined to make the most of his forced stay in the Capitol during winter. _The most of it_ apparently meant _the most of her_.

She wasn’t exactly complaining.

“Now you are being even _meaner_.” She pouted. She wouldn’t have minded staying in her pajamas all day and rolling around with him – or even staying _naked_ all day for that matter. That sounded like a good way to spend Christmas. Besides, she had a gift for him under the tree and she needed to find a way to give it to him without him having a fit because he didn’t know how to accept gifts like a normal person. “If you came in the shower with me, we could have some fun before I leave, though…”

“Or we could have fun _all day_ …” he insisted, rolling his eyes. “Come on, princess, you know how it’s gonna end anyway. They’re gonna be _fuckers_ , you’re gonna get upset and you’re gonna come back here begging me to _fuck_ you until you forget your name… Let’s get straight to the point…”

“If I miss Christmas brunch, I may as well move to Twelve and hide there until next year because _that_ _is_ how long and how far for me to be it would take my mother to forget about it.” she retorted.

He shrugged, his mouth twitching. “I’ve got a shed. We could put a blanket for you in a corner. _Cozy_.”

She shot him a glare, not quite enjoying being compared to a wayward dog.

He hid his smirk in his cup of tea.

Her headache had lessened, the tablets having worked their magic, and she poured herself a cup of hot coffee. After two sips she felt more like herself. And she was hesitating.

Because as much as there would be _hell_ to pay if she missed her mother’s brunch, there wouldn’t be many other opportunities to spend Christmas with Haymitch…

“I could take the coward’s way out and beg Seneca to cover for me…” she hummed. “He could tell them all I am ill…”

Her mother would no doubt find something to say about that but, if it came from Seneca, it might soften the blow. _And_ they might take Seneca passing messages for her a sign they were dating, which would keep them busy speculating and distract them from her absence…

That _did_ mean she would owe Seneca a big favor, of course, but she had been playing fake girlfriend at enough of _his_ mother’s parties for him to help her back when she needed it…

“Hangovered is a kind of ill.” Haymitch humored her, with a pointed tilt of his fork. “I’m thinking you need lots of bed rest…”

She pursed her lips to fight a smile.

His eagerness to have her back in bed was duly noted. And appreciated.

“Fine.” she decided. “I will call Seneca after breakfast. _Then_ I am unhooking the phone and hiding in your bedroom. Hopefully Mother won’t come and search for me there.”

“You know, we could add her to our list of crazies.” he suggested.

By that he meant the list of people who weren’t allowed anywhere _near_ the Games Compound. Mostly, they were the edgy fans and the stalkers. Every victor and escort had a list.

“Do not tempt me.” she joked, biting on another piece of her muffin with much more appetite. No endless brunch? No nagging from her mother? No brother-in-law trying to pinch her butt near the buffet table? Multiple orgasms in her near future? This Christmas was shaping out to be _the best_ yet. “If I _am_ staying though… We have to open the gifts under the tree. _Properly_. And without you making a fuss.”

“You can open your gifts.” he grumbled. “What do I care?”

“There are some for you from the other victors.” she retorted and, seeing his frown, she rolled her eyes. “And, _yes_ , I anticipated your lack of manners and sent back appropriate gifts for them all.”

Honestly, sometimes she wasn’t sure how he could function without her…

He considered her for a moment, perhaps on the edge of a temper tantrum about what he would consider _meddling,_ and then fished something out of his dressing-gown’s pocket. He placed it on the tablecloth between their seats.

It was a small cube awkwardly wrapped in a shred of shiny green paper that she recognized because she had wrapped all _her_ gifts with it – it had been sitting in her bedroom. She stared at it, not understanding at all.

“Well, open it!” Haymitch snapped, gruff and annoyed. To cover his embarrassment, she figured.

But she was too shocked to do what she should have done and help him save face by pretending this wasn’t a huge deal. Besides, the cube was just small enough to be a jewelry box and she suddenly felt dizzy at the ridiculous notion that there could be a ring in there.

_Stupid_ , of course.

_Utterly_ stupid.

“You got me a Christmas present?” she asked to cover her nerves, as she reached for the cube with shaky fingers.

“Won it at poker in Twelve. Ain’t worth a damn _shit_.” he muttered, stealing what was left of her muffin and giving the pastry his whole attention. “Ain’t nothing special. Don’t go reading into it or some _shit_. You don’t want it, just throw it away.”

She was fairly certain he didn’t play poker in Twelve for the simple reason that, to her best knowledge, he had _no friends_ in Twelve.

Which meant he was lying.

Which meant he had probably actually _purchased_ the present with her in mind.

It _was_ special for that reason alone.

She carefully unwrapped it. There was no doubt it came from Twelve because the box – that was indeed a jewelry box – was old and scratched. She wondered if he had found it at the black market she shouldn’t have known about. The Hob, she thought they called it. She wondered if it dated back from days when people in Twelve hadn’t been as poor as they currently were.

She opened it with a flick of her nail, not sure if she was or was not hoping for a ring. A ring would have a lot of implications and she wasn’t sure…

But it wasn’t a ring.

It was a hairclip.

It looked like an antique. A unique piece, maybe custom crafted. She was fairly certain they didn’t make any like this anymore and that made his claim that it wasn’t worth anything more than doubtful.

It was shaped like a delicate butterfly with pink and white polished stones decorating the wings. The hairclip and the antennas were gold-plated and a bit worse for the wear.

It was love at first sight.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, immediately gathering half her hair in her hand and clipping it in place in a half-ponytail. “It is _perfect.”_

It wasn’t an accessory she would easily be able to wear in public because it wouldn’t go with her usual looks. Too simple. But it was perfect for her real hair. And she suspected it must have crossed his mind because he looked satisfied to see the butterfly nestled there.

She stood up and sauntered out of the room, a spring in her step.

“I am going to call Seneca. Go back to bed and take out this ridiculous dressing gown. I am inclined to give you your first Christmas present now.”

He didn’t ask what it was.

She supposed the way she licked her lips was enough of a clue.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's highly unlikely and all but I like the idea of Haymitch giving her stuff that are IN NO WAY DELIBERATE GIFTS, NO, NO, NO, NO over the years. I imagine she keeps them all hidden in her music box with stupid sentimental tokens of other stuff... I don't know... What do you think? Let me know!


End file.
